


And the riven quote, nevermore

by thefollowingteamjoe



Category: The Following
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3944635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefollowingteamjoe/pseuds/thefollowingteamjoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Joe didn't die by lethal injection? What if Ryan Hardy was working with him the whole time...their story isn't over. We all saw Ryan's real personality and connection to Joe slip out numerous times. It's time we tell their real story and struggles from the beginning and how one cannot live without the other because something deep down and deadly has created an unbreakable bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
   "Dad c'mon do I have to go in? I don't feel like getting up." I said as I leaned my seat back and put my hands behind my head. "Ryan seriously? I had a long day and just want to get some smokes before we go home." My dad pleaded. I knew he couldn't go in there and buy a pack of cigarettes because the owner was a friend of my moms and she died of leukemia three years ago, when I was 14.

  Putting in both of my headphones and blasting Aero Smith's _Dream On_ I closed my eyes. After a minute or two the car shifted from the weight of my dad getting out then slamming the door. I watched him go in with his head held high ready for what his old friend would probably lecture him on.

  The music abruptly stopped and I took out my Walkman to see what the problem was but it wouldn't turn on. The batteries must be dead, I totally forgot to change them before I left this morning. Slipping it back into my pocket I heard the ring of the bell on the gas station door. Turning my head I saw a man run out, his face a sick shade of green. We locked eyes for a second and the terror in his made me start to worry.

  He sprinted down the block and I quickly opened my door and swung my legs out. Quickly and cautiously I walked up to the glass door and reached to the metal bar to open the door, but I froze. There was a strange fluid dripping from the bar onto the concrete. Leaning in very closely, I watched it drop and as soon as the drop of thick liquid splattered on the ground, I knew it was blood.

  Bursting through the door, my heart racing, I looked around frantically for my dad. "Dad!" I yelled. "Da-" I stopped. My heart dropped down to my feet and I couldn't breath. "Dad!" I croaked as I fell to my knees and crawled over to his shivering body surrounded by a pool of thick blood.

  His eyes were wide open, fear and pain causing them to flicker around the room until they met mine. Hot stinging tears poured down my face but my hands wouldn't move to wipe them away. My dads hand reached for mine and when he was just about to touch my arm...his hand dropped. It fell to the ground and looked as stiff and pale as marble. There was no gurgling sound while he struggled to breath. No chest heaving and violently shaking. He was dead, my dad--was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan just witnessed his dad die, has tracked down the killer, and is ready for revenge.   
> *Sorry if this chapter's lame, I was in a weird moment and was going off in space a lot!*

    I pulled my jacket tight against my quivering body and looked up at the apartment in front of me. The building had dilapidated, rusty red bricks and the fire escapes on both sides of the building looked unstable. I slowly walked up the concrete steps and pushed through the glass revolving door.

    A wave of warmth swallowed me as soon as I was fully inside of the lobby. It smelled like a Chinese food restaurant, and the lights were very dim compared to the glare of the sun outside, causing me to blink hard to adjust to the light. I took out the piece of paper that held the address, apartment room number, and name of the man who had robbed and killed my dad a few nights ago. It didn't take much to find him since his face was all over the news. I tucked it back into my front jeans pocket, careful to avoid moving the pistol I'd taken from my dad's drawer before I left.

    After I decided I'd take the stairs because the room was on the second floor, I took out the pistol and put it in my waistband at the back of my pants. The cold steel against the skin on my back wasn't the only thing that made me shudder. Was I really going to kill this guy? Was I ready? Obviously physically I was ready, everything but my conscious was ready for revenge. The image of my dad taking his last breath on the floor of the gas station erased all doubts from my mind. He was ready to die even if I wasn't ready to kill.

     I pushed a steel door open with the words "Floor 2" in red peeling tape pasted on it. The weight of my body as I walked across the plush red carpet made squeaking sounds echo down the skinny hall way. I looked at each of the golden plates nailed to the brown wooden doors until I found the one I was looking for. _1625_.

    I reached my hand down to try the round gold handle to find it was unlocked. Pulling the pistol out of my waistband, I brought it up to my armpit as my dad had shown me when I was younger. I leaned against the wall next to the door and slowly pushed it open, the squeaking sound of the rusty hinges making me anxious for what I would find. After the sound of it hitting the wall reached my ears, I sprung in front of the door with two hands on the pistol with my arms straight out, ready to shoot.

    I put the gun down when I saw he was passed out on the couch. Looking around the hallway to make sure no one was watching, I walked in and kicked the door shut. The _slam_ of the door hitting closed jolted the man from his slumber, or what I thought to be one. His eyes were blood shot and were swallowed by the shade of purple from the bags under his eyes. His thinning black hair stuck up in every direction and there was stubble on his sagging chin. This guy must be at least 30 years old.

    I looked at the table and saw that he wasn't sleeping, he was using heroine. A thought popped into my mind. I knew what would make him pay, something better than a quick death by a  bullet to his head. I pointed my gun to his head and his eyes went huge. "C'mon man don't kill me, I told Reggie I'd pay him back man give me a few weeks.." he mumbled on.

    "I didn't come for Reggie. Pick up the syringe and tie that band around your arm." I spat out. He looked at me confused and I pulled back the hammer, the clicking sound enough to make him scramble for the band. I watched as he looped the band around his flabby frail arm and I saw the holes slowly appear from other times he must've done this. He was an addict, his death would be anything but surprising.

    When it was tied tightly, he grabbed a spoon with sloshy liquid that must've been some heroin still left in it. "Hurry up." I barked as the creaking of the floors in the hallway told me someone else was on this floor. He snatched a lighter from the table and lit it under the charred spoon until the heroine started to bubble. Then, reaching for the syringe, he began to shake a little.

    "Listen man, I've got some money and whatever I did, I can-" I pushed the gun deeper into his wrinkling for head and through gritted teeth I yelled, "I don't want your money! What you did you can never repay. You took away something I love, something that mattered to me! Now it's my turn to return the favor."

    He looked puzzled, as if he didn't know what I was talking about. How many people has this guy killed? Maybe he did deserve to die. He was going to die a slow and painful death and justice would be served. Sticking the skinny medal tube in the spoon, he pulled back the plastic handle but stopped 1/5 of the way. "All the way." I demanded. He looked at me fear painted all over his face, but he looked back at spoon and pulled until the rubber inside stopped him from going any further.

    "Lay down." I instructed. Keeping the gun to his head, he laid down on his ripped beat up brown leather sofa. He flexed his arm and stuck the needle inside of the bulging purple and blue vein. Closing his eyes, I saw a tear roll down his face and past his quivering lips. I watched as he repeated the sucking up of the heroine then sticking it into his vein, until he was in the middle of pushing the plastic handle, and his hand dropped. "Hey. Hey!" I whispered while nudging him with the pistol. I reached my hand down to his wrist and looked for a pulse. Nothing. With the syringe still in his arm, I stood there and stared. Had I just killed a man? 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan just watched another person die in front of him for the second time in three weeks. What is he feeling? Now that he's brought his dads killer to "justice", what will he do now?
> 
> *Pretty short, I was bored so why not*

    I sat in my truck in the parking lot of a motel. As of three hours ago, I had became a killer. _Well I never touched him so it doesn't count right?_ I tried convincing myself. _He killed someone too, it's like an eye for an eye, a taste of his own medicine._ I leaned my thumping head against the cold foggy window. For 15 minutes I sat that way watching small drops of precipitation slide down the glass.

    I must've fallen asleep sometime in the night because I woke up to someone knocking on the window. I couldn't see who it was, the heat inside the car had caused the windows to fog up. Taking advantage of the temporary protection from sight, I hid the pistol in the glove compartment then rolled down the window. A man wearing what looked like a potato sack as a jacket and khaki shorts was an inch from my face. His long crispy white beard grew past his armpits and the tinted blue in his right eye lead me to believe he was blind there.

    "Can I help you?" I asked, sleepiness sneaking into my voice. He smiled bearing his four yellow teeth and infected gums. I made a face of disgust as the smell of alcohol and gingivitis poured from his open mouth. "I don't have any money, sorry." I said as I rolled up the window. When I started my truck up again, I locked the doors and turned on the windshield wipers. Standing in front of the head lights was the old man. I stared at him and his smiling face. "Weird" I whispered under my breath. 

    I turned to check if anyone was behind me so I could back up. When no cars were in sight, I began to roll out of the parking space. I turned and was about to step on the gas, but once again I found the old man in front of my truck. Blocking my way. _Still smiling_. I beeped my horn once hoping it would scare some sense into him. He didn't even blink. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out.

"What the hell are you doing? Get out of the way! I will run you over old man!" I yelled out. After waiting what felt like years (but was only 3 minutes), I banged my hand on the steering wheel and revved the engine. He flinched. Knowing now that it scared him, I jolted forward an inch. Out of instinct he stumbled back with his arms outstretched as if he was hoping to stop the truck.

"Wait!" a raspy old voice called over the roaring engine. He ran over to my side and motioned for me to roll down the window. "We have to talk. I saw it--" he whispered. I strained my neck to hear what he was saying and he leaned in right next to my ear.

"I saw you kill that man."

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know what to write since this is my first time writing anything on here lol so tell me if it's good and I might keep going! This is totally what I wanted to happen, but I'm glad didn't (cause it would ruin the real thing and I wouldn't have these ideas). But yea, so let me know and I'll take your word for it!


End file.
